


The Market

by Oldhabits



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Human Trafficking, M/M, not a couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:02:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26030851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oldhabits/pseuds/Oldhabits
Summary: The scene was almost picturesque: The abandoned part of Blüdhaven’s harbour, shipping containers piling up high, everything coloured in fifty shades of grey thanks to the ungodly hour. Instead of basking in harbour spotlights everything was lit rather poorly, with the actual source of light being an old Ford Taunus. A scene straight out of a Scorsese film – and to put the cherry on top, it had started pouring a few minutes ago. Wasn’t this just lovely?The Red Hood and Nightwing team up.(Rating comes from swearing and canon typical violence.)
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45
Collections: JayDick Summer Exchange 2020





	The Market

**Author's Note:**

  * For [element78](https://archiveofourown.org/users/element78/gifts).



Headlights lit the scene as the men were loading the goods into containers. So far so good, if only said goods weren’t men and women, 30 all in all. All of them in their twenties – late thirties max.

The scene was almost picturesque: The abandoned part of Blüdhaven’s harbour, shipping containers piling up high, everything coloured in fifty shades of grey thanks to the ungodly hour. Instead of basking in harbour spotlights everything was lit rather poorly, with the actual source of light being an old Ford Taunus. A scene straight out of a Scorsese film – and to put the cherry on top, it had started pouring a few minutes ago. Wasn’t this just lovely?

The guys below didn’t seem particularly worried of getting caught. Still, they’d taken the necessary precautions. For one, they were sporting the big guns and had Jean Claude van Damme lookalikes scattered all around the place. All dressed in fine Armani suits, now drenched with rain, Al Capone memorial hats hiding most of their faces – but hey, at least they weren’t wearing sunglasses at night.

The thought almost made Jason laugh. Sure, the irony wasn’t lost on him that he was probably the last person who should laugh at eccentric head wear. But _he_ could pull his off; the guys below just looked like walking clichés.

There seemed to be nine brawny bouncer types in total, all taking strategic positions that kept them out of the headlights while offering them a good overview of the premise. To the untrained eye, most of them had to be near invisible.

Good thing that Jason’s eye definitely wasn’t untrained. Still, he’d stumbled over this shit show just by accident. This alone was worrysome enough. Way more worrysome than all the sheer gun power below. Even _more worrysome_ than the realisation that he could have easily been spotted. He didn’t want to push his lucky any further, so he quickly sank to the ground and pressed his body to the cold container surface.

Fuck.

He prided himself in being the one in the family who always kept tabs on human trafficking rings – and in finding out about their move first. He was pouring quite a lot of money and resources into it, as this was the only way that he could deal with situations like this _accordingly_ without interference… The bats didn’t take too kindly to bullet holes in skulls. Jason still enjoyed painting the sourroundings in red whenever he had the chance – why waste tax payers’ money on a trial when you could have an easy way out? But for peace’s sake, he tried not to be as trigger happy as he used to be…

And here people said he was stubborn…

Some of the prisoners were crying. It was barely audible over the pouring rain, but Jason could see it. He clenched his fists when a particularly young woman stumbled, fell and the beefcakes started laughing. They’d better enjoy it while they still could…

It only added to his annoyance that he still didn’t have a clue what organisation he was dealing with. If it hadn’t been for the drug bust a few miles south, he wouldn’t even be here, which was downright scary. A shiver ran down his back that had nothing to do with the cold rain soaking his clothes.

But, apparently, he was getting sloppy.

He realized that he was no longer alone on the container tower when he heard footsteps behind him. They were way too close, four feet tops – unacceptable! This day had started out so nicely and now this shit show.

In a flash, he had rolled to his back, using the movement to pull his gun, ready to shoot if need be. This would ruin the moment of surprise, true, but it would also be a message if he sent someone down with a hole right between their eyes. One less asshole to deal with.

But he didn’t pull the trigger, despite his finger lingering against the familiar weight of his M1911.

“Fuck, Goldie, what d’ya want?”

Deliberately slowly, Jason lowered his gun. He didn’t like the way his heart was pounding, the thought that he’d almost fucking shot fucking Nightwing – but fuck, no one in their right mind would try to sneak up on the Red Hood. Well, maybe Nightwing wasn’t exactly the person you had in mind when it came to picture-book sanity. Rather, insufferable know-it-all and pain in the neck.

“I was about to ask you the same thing. Should I take it personally that you didn’t even call to say you were in town?”

“Yes. Please do.”

Jason could almost hear Nightwing roll his eyes but turned his gaze back to the scenery below. They still hadn’t been spotted. Good.

It was bugging him that Dick had managed to get so close before he’d been aware of his presence. Hell, he’d probably even intended for Jason to hear his steps. Still, too close, not cool. Even if it was fucking Nightwing with his fucking cat-like movements. Even with the heavy rain and the steady sound of droplets against his helmet. 

Way. Too. Close!

Worst part: They both knew it. Maybe he’d reconsider not making that head shot in order to avoid a stupid comment on his apparent carelessness. And he’d kill two birds with one stone, as there was no way Dick would let him blow out the Van Dammes’ lights.

But apparently Nightwing hadn’t stumbled across the reason for the Red Hood’s presence in Blüdhaven - yet. That, or he was feeling generous as the drug pushers were still happily alive – as happy as you were with a matching set of broken legs and arms, coming with a jucy concussion.

Jason called it the _Red Hood Delight._

It was beyond him why his family insisted that he was uncooperative. Not so long ago, BHPD would have had to move the assholes horizontally on a stretcher. Now, they’d be greeted with a tighly knotted package. All they had to to was read them their rights and get the scum out of the harbour, no resistance to be expected.

There you go.

You’re _welcome_.

“So what is it we’re dealing with?”

Nightwing’s voice pulled him back, and fuck yeah – he shouldn’t let his mind wander off like that. Not in a situation like this.

The nuisance lowered himself in one fluid motion and pressed down to the cold container surface right next to Jason, body heat radiating by sheer proximity. He didn’t have the decency to look drenched like any normal person would, but rather looked like an overpriced male model posing for some fancy fragrance for men.

_Homme Douche. Out now._

Jason was rather irritated than angry but he tried his best to not let it show. There were more important things now than diving into old rivalries and inadequacies.

“Human trafficking. Fresh off the boat. Half an hour later and we wouldn’t have found a thing. Three automatic weapons by the container. Two by the crane. One by the red Ford. An additional two on the container tower to the right. One slightly to the left.”

“One straight ahead.” Dick nodded.

“One straight ahead – just testing you, Dick-face.” Jason was grinning under his hood. Of course Goldie already had an overview of the situation. After all, he’d been here for – oh yeah, two and a half minutes. Fucking showoff!

Still, it just felt natural to have the final say, so Jason added some – probably redundant – pieces of information. “All armed to the teeth, automatic weapons and several magazines hidden under the Armani suits. Looking as international as the goods they’re pushing.” 

Jason didn’t even bother to hide his anger, some words laced with rage. Scenes like this made him see red in the literal sense, and he was already regretting that he wasn’t alone. Sure, it didn’t hurt to have backup in a set-up like the one below – and they’d get the job done way quicker with Nightwing’s help – but Jason really longed to break some bones. Break some bones and find out who was running this shit show so he could break some more…

There were a few unknowns – and Jason had never been a big fan of too many loose ends and variables. He liked to plan in advance, meticulously even, always having a plan B, C, D and E in place before he was forced to improvise. Not everyone was a freak like Dick, who seemed to live by a plan being only so good until first contact. What then usually followed was what Dick called having a hand for improvisation. Jason just thought that fortune favoured the fools. Had both of them really been trained by the same lunatic?

“Do we know who’s behind this already?”

“Isn’t this supposed to be your city? I’m just a tourist. Just passing through.”

Jason made a mental note to keep one of the fuckers conscious to get some info asap. Then hand out some _sleep medicine_.

“Not the sights you were looking for then?” Dick-face seemed genuinely surprised, the white lenses in his domino mask widening slightly before he collected himself.

“Dickie, and here they say you’re the stupid Robin…”

“Awww, you talk about me. I knew you cared. So, no info?” Dick-face needed to lose that toothy grin _fast._

Jason shook his head, both at the idiot in the skin-tight kevlar onesie and in order to answer Dick’s question. Despite aiming for a light tone, it was obvious from his body language that Dick was tense. Jason’s eyes had roamed the lines of Dick’s firm body often enough to read slight changes in his posture with ease, to draw the right conclusion when looking at tense shoulders and full lips pressed into thin lines.

“Eyes on the case, Dick-bird. You’ll forgive me if I don’t participate in boosting your blown-up ego today but rather… wait. Why are you here then, if you don’t seem to know what’s happening within your own city?”

“A drug thing was supposed to go down by the cruisers but apparently someone already took care of it.”

The way Nightwing said emphasized someone didn’t leave any room for doubt: He seemed to have a pretty good idea on who that someone was. Maybe Jason was lucky that the scumbags back over there were still able to cry out for their mamas and contemplate their poor life choices. Or it was this prime time worthy action thriller that demanded all of Nightwing’s attention. Whatever it was, he didn’t receive the standard lecture, and this was definitively a good thing.

“Then I saw a lunatic with a red hood sneaking from the crime scene and thought I’d follow him. I use the word sneaking rather loosely here; his stealth game wasn’t that strong.”

Now it was Jason’s turn to roll his eyes. Really, stealth shaming?

“Could be that he didn’t try to hide as he has done nothing to be ashamed of?”

This was only partly true, but Jason would rather bite his tongue off than admit to that. It bugged him that he hadn’t noticed Nightwing on his trail. And it made him angry that this was another point for Golden-boy and nill for him, in this stupid game they’d been playing ever since Jason had taken the mantle of Robin and tried to move out of Dick’s shadow.

It didn’t help, that he’d developed an inappropriate crush around the same time and that Dick looked… the fucking way he just _looked_. Apparently it wasn’t mutually exclusive to fantasize about knocking someone’s teeth out and dry humping them at the same time. Yeah, well, Jason was a complicated guy.

“Jay…”

Dicks tone was gentler and less teasing now. He even reached out, but Jason quickly evaded his touch by getting up and getting ready to jump.

“Actually, stupid and annoying Robin... I wonder why that is. So, finally getting back to business--I’ll take care of the dipshits below, you deal with the ones on the containers?”

Yes, focus und the situation below. That was way safer than staying up here with Dick. He only needed to blow off some steam.

Nightwing nodded and got up in one single graceful movement that had to be a trick from the circus because no one got up _like that_. Heck, he’d pay to just see him move. But first it was time for Red Hood to give a warm welcome to the assholes below. However, before he could jump, Nightwing had him by the arm and held him back.

“No one dies. Understood? Just one of them is pushing up dasies and I’ll arrest you myself.”

Good thing Nightwing was so annoying – it really helped now that his stupid pretty hair stuck to his stupid pretty face, the rain only adding to his attractiveness. So Jason just clicked his tongue. He could tell that he wasn’t the only one spoiling for a fight. Dick needed the adrenaline almost as much as he did if not more. He only put on a better show, but Jason could see right through it: Nightwing was buzzing with energy and was ready to kick some ass.

Still, he was serious about this no-killing nonsense and Jason had to accept it – for the time being – if he didn’t want to deal with the whole familiy and their judgement. He hated to admit it, but it felt nice being back again… sometimes. And just because of Alfred. At least that was what he told himself when he, as of late, aimed for the leg instead for the head.

“Gee, cut the B imitation, it’s making me sick.”

Dick just glared at him.

“Okay, fine. I’ll try not to off anyone if I can help it. But if it’s _me or them_ , if it’s _one of the prisoners or one of the scumbags_ … no promises made.”

And this was exactly the reason why he preferred working alone. This commitment was the best he could do.

But it seemed to be good enough for Nightwing, who turned around to leave.

“Hey, if it’s _you or them_ , I might even be tempted to make an exception.”

Nightwing just chuckled and gave him his best toothpaste-commercial smile, then he jumped off the container tower, somersaulting through the air before landing on the other side and running towards his first target without slowing down.

Showoff!

Jason let his gaze wander over the shit show below one last time, tried to memorize the locations of dipshit one to dipshit nine, zoomed in on every single one like an eagle did with its prey. Then he let himself fall off the container tower.

The impact was hard but calculated. He probably wouldn’t get any points for style here, but unlike some birdies, he wasn’t a circus monkey waiting for spectactors’ applause.

It took Jason mere seconds to reach the guy by the old Ford. With all his might, he crashed the knob of his gun against the guy’s temple – it was enough to make One tumble and break the skin beneath the metal. Blood started pouring from an ugly laceration, soaking the expensive suit in red.

It would have been so easy to just break this guy’s neck. This asshole deserved it, no doubt about it. Even if he only stood guard, whoever got involved in human trafficking, whoever treated people like cattle... fuck, they didn’t deserve any better. Were _asking for it_.

Jason had One in a strangehold, choking him with all he had before they guy could get back to his senses. For the time being, they were shielded by the car’s headlights. But their chances of not getting caught and being fired at didn’t look good. Jason had no intention of making them worse by letting dipshit here cry out for help.

Still, the VD lookalike was putting up quite a fight, was struggling, kicking, and almost bit him in an attempt to break free. The five seconds he had left weren’t enough though, despite his impressive build and desperate strength. In the end, the pressure on the carotid sinus and the thereby triggered high blood pressure in the brain led to the desired shutdown. 

One went limp.

No cry for help. No firing gun. No alarm – yet.

Jason was still choking him while he dragged the dead weight behind the car, removing him from the sight of his colleagues even further. Just to be on the safe side. Nothing was quite as annoying as having to deal with an opponent behind your back who got back to his feet simply because you’d been sloppy. There were scars from an old gun wound below his right shoulder just to prove his point.

Jason grabbed the weapon – automatic MG5, nice – fixed the dipshit up with zip ties and didn’t exactly pay attention to circulation. This wasn’t part of his deal with Nightwing.

One down, eight to go – minus the mfs Nightwing had already taken care of. So much for the easy part.

Jason stooped down and quickly moved in the deep shadows cast by the container towers. His new toy was strapped around his shoulder and would come in handy in case he had to break his promise to Dick if things went south. He didn’t have to worry about the sound the soles of his heavy military boots were making on the hard concrete. The heavy rain muffled everything though it did ruin his leather jacket.

Two stood slightly to the left, by the container where they were herding the people. Everything in his posture indicated that this motherfucker was having fun. He was leering at the prisoners, undressing them with his eyes and clicking his tongue appreciatively whenever a particularly young woman had to get past him. It took Jason everything not to completely lose it that moment, but he repeated his promise like a mantra – and he made a mental note to knock all of Two’s teeth out. See if he still had a good time then.

Being so close to everyone was problematic, though. It was impossible to launch an attack without getting noticed. If he made a move, he’d have to deal with Three and Four as well, them standing so close. Also, there was Five on the container if Nightwing hadn’t dealt with him yet. And there were still Six and Seven by the crane. Everyone else was already out – Jason was positive that Nightwing had knocked the fuckers on the containers out already. Worst case scenario: six brutes versus two of them. This was a little risky.

Risky, but not impossible.

His eyes were searching the night sky for Nightwing’s familiar silhouette so as to get a better grasp of their current situation and the odds of their _spring-cleaning_ not going awry. Out of the Ford’s headlights, it was easier to act and Dick didn’t have to be as cautious as Jason was down on the ground. He should be moving faster... but Jason couldn’t spot him anywhere, and this made him nervous. Where the fuck was he? 

Five crashed down onto Three, burying him in a mass of limbs, almost as if he wanted to answer Jason’s question. Nightwing followed, rolling over his shoulder in one fluid movement to ease the landing and use the momentum of his jump to kick Four in the face. The mass of limbs even served him as a stepping stone. Gravity never seemed to effect Nightwing the way it did others. Always a treat to watch.

But so much for stealth and secrecy. On the plus side: Jason didn’t need to hold back any longer. 

Well, Hello Two!

He started moving like a tank on speed. Two quick steps and his M1911’s handle crashed against the guy’s larynx. He gasped for air and helplessly hoisted his automatic weapon. Turned out that they weren’t in luck this time and loud chattering shots broke through the night. They’d taken him by surprise. That was the only reason Two wasn’t aiming at anything – heck, at anyone, buying Jason precious time to get out of his line of fire. He was standing next to Two, crashing the handle into the back of his knee, making Two lose balance and go down.

The MG9 was still firing. Almost dully, as if they were far far away, he heard the people scream in panic, probably the prisoners. Not an ideal situation, he’d better move fast. One backhanded hammerfist against Two’s head – the ridiciolous Al Capone Memorial hat flew off – a hit with his right on the same spot. No chance Two was still seeing, let alone thinking straight. Another hammerfist, this time between the shoulder blades and the muscle went limb. 

Two went down. 

Instead of giving in to the temptation of pulling the trigger, Jason kicked the fucker hard, blood spurting from his mouth and his head flying back, almost with enough force to break his neck. Almost.

Quick glance to Nightwing, who was letting his escrima sticks rain down on Four. The other guy’s weapon was gone already, lying unattended a few feet from them. In contrast to Jason, it was clearly visible that Nightwing didn’t rely on pure strength but rather on strategic, quick strikes. It was a brutal dance, always keeping his opponent at bay, disorienting them with hits and banter – the latter luckily not audible over the heavy rain. He probably wouldn’t understand a word anyways, with his blood pumping like mad.

It was like watching a fucking porno, a fucking predator going in for the kill. Fucking poetry.

Jason’s pants grew a little tight – nothing out of the ordinary. It happened sometimes that he sported a semi during a fight. It happend a lot more often whenever he would watch _Nightwing_ fight. The rush, the adrenaline, _visual stimulation_. Nothing to be ashamed of – and yes, a shrink could fill books with his wires gone all wrong. But fuck it!

Saldy, he didn’t really have time to watch and enjoy the show, but he _did_ allow himself the time to watch Nightwing beat Four unconcious with a vicious backflip. 

Again: _Fucking. Poetry._

f course, the dipshits had to ruin the show. The brawns who’d been positioned by the crane were running at them like idiots, firing their automatics instead of doing the only sensible thing they could do: flee.

Jason was positive Nightwing would make sure the prisioners took cover in the container, not standing in the way of bullets out in the open. So he charged, always cautious not to jump right in front of their automatics. The Van Dammes might be armed heavily, but apparently they’d skipped training, as their aim was rather poor. 

Unlike Jason’s. 

He discarded Dick’s warning – this was a _me or them_ kinda situation – and fired his gun, the backlash feeling familiar, almost like a rush. And _he_ did hit his target.

He was sliding over the wet asphalt the last few feet, ruining his pants in the process, and fired four additional shots. Six screamed in pain, unpleasantly, shrilly, as the bullet smashed his kneekap, a second one tearing a hole into his left thigh. It was fucking music to Jason’s ears. The fucker went down, nothing to break his fall as he crashed face first into the asphalt. Ouch. This had to hurt.

At the same time, Seven’s shoulder was torn back by Jason’s double hit, but by some miracle he managed to stay on his feet. Obviously he was someone who just didn’t know what was good for him... but Jason was cool with that. 

All the more fun for him.

Already back on his feet, he crashed into Seven, using his forearms as shields, pushing forward to redirect the automatic weapon. It was still firing shots; and back with the group he could hear it ricocheting against the container’s metal. Eventually, even the best magazine had to be running empty. It was only a matter of time.

Pulling his right elbow up, he hammered with evil precision into Seven’s face. Could feel the nose breaking, blood gushing out. Nice. Another quick left-right combination against the neck, to keep Seven at bay, one well-placed kick against the sternum and he could hear bones breaking. 

Jason grinned as the mf finally went down.

Quickly, he secured the MG8 and made Seven look down the barrel of his gun. “Please. Pleaaaaaaase do me the favour and try to get up, motherfucker. _Pleeeeeeease_ give me a reason...!”

The finger on the trigger twitched and Jason really didn’t know what he’d do if that idiot was stupid enough to try something. But all the fuck did was glare at him, like an adrenalized pitbull who’d just been confined by a muzzle. Jason was well aware that he’d shoot him if only Seven had his chance.

But it wasn’t him who pulled the trigger.

When Jason turned around, it was Six who was holding his automatic in shaky hands, trying to aim at Jason but missing his target. Back at the container, he heard a familiar voice scream out in pain.

Fuck.

Stupid mistake.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!

Jason zoned out, emptying his magazine into Six’s hands. No surgeon would ever be able to put that pulp of flesh back into anything remotly resembling limbs. This fucker had fired his last shot today. Probably forverer.

Jason turned around and ran back.

Dick had been hit. He had his weight shifted to his left, but being a dickhead like he always tended to be, he didn’t sit down but hobbled to the container and actually tried to calm the prisoners. The other Van Dammes were already secured with zip ties...

Instead of a greeting, Nightwing just glared at him and had the nerve to look disappointed when Jason stopped by his side. And damn, did anger suited Dick’s face.

“Was this really necessary Red?” 

He sounded so much like the man who’d raised him that Jason – for a split seconds – felt himself shrink back to the Robin that wasn’t enough. Would never be enough, could never compare. 

The moment was over as quickly as it had come.

Fucking hell, Nightwing had been shot and he really had the nerve to question his methods?!

Here. 

Now.

_Really?_

“Why don’t you mind your own business. Doesn’t look like raindrops were the only thing raining here. Love the red on your suit, by the way.”

He didn’t get a response other than a stoic “mhm”. He really had to be in serious pain, otherwise Dick wouldn’t back down so easily. For now, he clearly wanted this whole situation to be dealt with quickly – which spared Jason an argument.

Still, it wasn’t easy for Jason to shake off his irritation and to bite back the words that were already on his tongue. But he knew from experience that it was better not to test his luck with Dick – and he wanted to check on the gun wound in Dicks’s right thigh first before starting another fight.

The bullet had gone right through – the kevlar hadn’t been an obstacle for the automatic weapons. It was pouring blood, but mainly because Dick-bird didn’t stop moving. As far as Jason could see, no arteries had been hit. Because of lighting and current weather, he couldn’t be a hundred percent sure, though. _Definitely_ needed cleaning and bandage.

Still, he was relieved. Goldie had been stupidly lucky, only a few inches to the right and... Jason quickly pushed the thought aside.

Meanwhile, Nightwing continued talking to the prisoners, tried calming them down and getting a grasp of the trauma caused. He was talking in this voice he reserved only for the ones hurt badly, who’d been through hell and back. Though Jason was sure that this happened out of compassion, it also always did the trick to get info from the victims. 

He hated to admit it, but Dick was better when it came to this whole people thing. Red Hood was designed to inspire fear, whereas Nightwing was still approachable. More so than Robin even, given the current incarnation.

Well, there were still enough assholes around for the Red Hood to talk to.

Jason went back to Two, the Van Damme who’d molested and laughed at the young women, and let the cold iron of his M1911 collide with the fucker’s cheek. Enough to make it hurt and to get the point accross that the Red Hood wasn’t in the mood to be fucked with. Not hard enough to make the scumbag lose conciousness.

“You know, there are two ways to do this, the easy way and the...” Jason started but was interrupted almost instantly.

“Fuck you!”

Seconds later, Two was missing two front teeth and found himself with the barrel of his gun in his mouth.

“As I’m a nice guy, I’m gonna explain this _once_. Side note: There won’t be a second time.” He started again, tone as if he were talking to a child. “I’ll ask you a question, you’ll answer. Anything else, and you’ll be eating though a straw from now on. Understood?”

As he still had his gun in the dipshit’s mouth, Two could only nod. But nod he did, clunking his remaining teeth against the cold metal and drooling a little.

“If that doesn’t help you understand, then you’ll be using that straw while sitting in a wheelchair.” Slowly, he snapped his fingers against both kneecaps of the man in front of him, enjoying how his eyes widened in panic.

“Still not enough? No problem – but I hope you’ve got good insurance, as you’ll need a nurse holding your fucking soup for you while you suck at the straw.” Jason nodded at both tied hands, heavy with meaning.

There was no way in hell that Nightwing would let him do any of this, but how was this dimwit supposed to know that. The impression he gave him while his face was still swelling assured Jason that he’d gotten his point accross. 

Attaboy.

“So, let’s start again: Who do you work for for?”

He took his sweet time leaving the weapon in the fucker’s mouth, but eventually pulled out. There was no point in interrogating the guy if he didn’t understand a word he was babbling while drooling all over his gun.

“I really don’t know...”

Not off to a very promising start.

Jason sighed and broke the guy’s nose. And here he’d thought they’d come to an understanding.

“You better choose your next words _very_ carefully. Straw, wheelchair, nurse – it’s up to you.”

Two whimpered pathetically and spit out blood as well as an additional tooth. Probably not the best conditions to speak, but that wasn’t Jason’s problem. Just to give a little incentive, he tipped his M1911 onto the guy’s right knee.

“The Market. They call themselves _The Market_.” There, was that really that difficult? A bit hard to understand with all the drooling and blood, but the guy was finally talking. “What I was trying to say earlier: I really don’t know who’s behind this. I’ve never met one of them.”

Two winced, almost as if expecting the next hit – which didn’t come.

“How did they hire you then?” Probably not through an ad in a newspaper. “And how did you get your orders? I’m sorry to say this, but you didn’t deliver what your weapons promised. Bit dissapointing, if you ask me.”

A red line of drool dribbled along Two’s chin as he hurried to answer.

“Mail. We got mail... like, in the mailbox. There was a package with a uniform, like, the suit, cell phone, prepaid, and 10k. We got the coordinates and time over the prepaid...”

He probably shouldn’t have done this but Jason lost it. He pulled the trigger while his weapon was still aiming at Two’s knee – who was now howling in pain, eyes wide in shock and betrayal. But fuck it – were 10k really all that was necessary to happily stand by, to watch how people were loaded into containers and shipped towards God knows what kind of terrible future? _10 fucking k_!

He was about to bust the left kneecap as well, but a strong grip on his shoulder snapped him out of it.

“Red Hood, that’s enough!”

Nightwing’s tone was firm, but he didn’t sound like he was sorry for Two. Rather like he wanted to keep Jason from doing something stupid. Fuck, if only B hadn’t indoctrinated this no-killing nonsense into him as thuroughly as he had... they might even have made a good team.

Jason secured his weapon and put it back into its holster – not because he wanted to but to spare himself the argument. At the same time, he tried to relax his shoulders, loosen his body. Dick always responded well to body language. 

And really, he let go of his shoulder – but the sirens in the distance might have something to do with that.

This made it easier to frisk Two, who flinched like a beaten dog. Jason didn’t want to get his hopes up, it was unlikely even for this fucker to be stupid enough to have the prepaid on him, but he had to check. Though, all he found was a zippo, which was his now.

“Okay. Got it. No, Hood’s with me... almost... Yes, we’re on our way.” Dick’s tone had changed, he sounded like Nightwing again. All business. Jason didn’t need to look up to know that he was talking into his com tech. Probably to Al or Tim. Hopefully not to B.

“No, we’re good, no need to worry.” Alfred then. B always assumed, no, _demanded_ that they got everything under control.

Anyways, the authorities were on their way, were probably already closer thanks to the little present the Red Hood had left down the harbour. Time to get going. Goldie also turned to leave but winced and almost fell, when he put too much pressure on his right leg.

“Can you walk?”

His arms reached out by instict, trying to support Dick, who seemed to contemplate rejecting his offer for a second. Fucking dickhead. But apparently he wasn’t as dumb as he looked, for he eventually leaned on Jason for support.

“We might be faster if you carry me...” he mumbled meekly. Knowing Dick, this confession must have cost him quite a bit – pretty little proud birdie. Jason loved it. 

Usually, Dick was all about proving to everyone that he was doing _just fine_ on his own. So it didn’t come as a surprise that he added an excuse. “Police and ambulance are already on their way. One, maybe two minutes, tops.”

“Always the damsel in distress.” The grind behind his hood was _audible_.

“Sure – but could the knight in shing armour please hurry up?”

Jason was tempted to answer Dick’s snotty tone by carrying him bridal style. But they both had a reputation to lose here – and maybe he felt a little bad for letting Six shoot Dick just because he hadn’t secured his weapon in time.

Eventually, he took Nightwing piggy-back and left the crime scene as the sirens drew closer. 

They’d deal with The Market later.

**Author's Note:**

> Dear element78, thank you for letting me be your pinch hitter. I swear I wanted to write amnesiac Dick (as I hate what DC did with the Ric nonsense) - but time ran out and it turend into promt 3 :) 
> 
> Sexy times is already in works, and I'll post it as an add on later on. But I sincerely hope that you had fun with your ficlet anyways. :)
> 
> Thanks so much Kitkaos for the last minute beta! You're awesome!


End file.
